


i'm lost without your love

by bodhirookes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Men Crying, a few Star Wars jokes since I'm a nerd and these two are the biggest nerds I know, because high school is stressful as buns, both boys are 18 here, lots and lots of fluff, seriously these two just sob like babies, this might be bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:43:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirookes/pseuds/bodhirookes
Summary: Ryan's weekend longStar Warsmarathon gets interrupted when Shane starts throwing rocks at his window, and it only gets better from there. As in, lots of boys crying and having life-affirming sex and Jake Bergara kicking ass and taking names better.





	i'm lost without your love

**Author's Note:**

> ayeee what up everyone, it’s your local gay girl here to try and write some mlm sex even though i hate most dicks (and you’ll maybe probably be able to tell when it comes down to the sex part lols), i’m out here trying my best so please take it easy on me as i stumble my way through this fic.
> 
> anywho, hope you enjoy! the title is from the song 'past lives' by borns, which is a song that fits perfectly with this fic and with shyan in general :-)

He’s only _Attack of the Clones_ into his weekend-long _Star Wars_ marathon when rocks start hitting his window.

Ryan looks like a complete and total slob: threadbare sweatpants, a worn Luke Skywalker t-shirt, slightly crooked glasses, insane hair, and popcorn stuck to the side of his face and parts of his clothes. He’s curled up into as tight of a ball as he can be in the corner of his bed, favorite fuzzy blanket around his shoulders, and would put money on there being several rolls in his chin from the way his head is angled. He is definitely not expecting any company, so the sudden noise of rocks hitting his window is wholly unwelcomed.

Since he’s panicking almost always, his first thought it _Is someone trying to break in?_ and he fumbles to pull his phone out between his leg and a pillow. He’s about to dial fucking 911 when he remembers that Jake is in the basement, blissfully unaware of what’s going on, and he switches from 911 to speed dial #3.

_“What?”_

“Jake-”

_“Ryan, I’m literally in the middle of this game and I need to fuckin’ focus. What do you want?”_

Usually he would be rushing to kick Jake’s ass for acting like he’s older than Ryan, but right now he’s more concerned about some insane axe murderer breaking into their house and killing both of them.

“There’s someone outside of our house.”

Ryan hears the noise from the basement TV die almost immediately. “ _What?”_

“There’s someone outside of our house,” he repeats, lowering his voice. “Someone keeps throwing shit at my window. I don’t know why.”

 _“Why don’t you go look then?”_ Ryan’s a little pissed that Jake doesn’t sound as concerned about it. _“Ask them what the fuck they think they’re doing.”_

“Are you insane? The first people to die in horror movies are the ones who go and look for the killer. Dumbass.”

_“I’m the dumbass? You think that someone’s going to break into our house by alerting you that they’re outside?”_

“Fuck you,” Ryan hisses, because he’s trying to hide how absolutely terrified he is. Without pausing the movie (and trying to draw strength from Obi-Wan Kenobi), Ryan slips onto the floor and crawls over to his window. “I’m going to see if I can look down without the person seeing me."

 _“Solid plan,”_ Jake says absently, and Ryan hears the TV volume turn back on. _“Also I just lost my game so you owe me $5.”_

“If we make it out of this alive, I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

_“Jesus Christ.”_

Ryan crawls until he’s to the wall, phone cradled awkwardly between his cheek and shoulder, and tries to talk himself into actually looking out of the window. There are rocks still being thrown at his window, and every one makes his anxiety worsen. Between that and the _pew pew pew_ noise of the droid fight going on and Jake’s unconcerned laughter, it makes him feel like he’s having a mental break because he swears he can hear someone yelling his na-

“ _Ryan!”_ Another rock, and some silence. “ _Ryyyannnn!”_

He would know that voice anywhere, and almost trips trying to stand up so quickly, panic forgotten.

Shane is standing underneath Ryan’s window, a handful of rocks still at the ready to be thrown, and when he sees Ryan looking down at him, he grins. “ _Ryan! Open up!”_

“What the fuck,” Ryan curses, and fumbles with the lock.

_“What is it?”_

“It’s fucking Shane.”

Jake snorts, and gives Ryan a _“Told you, bro,”_ before hanging up on him.

It takes him a few seconds, but when he eventually gets the window open, his first thought isn’t to ask Shane what he’s doing or why he’s there, but to simply tell him:

“You can go fuck yourself.”

Shane doesn’t look mad when he says this, just laughs his stupid, happy laugh and waves his string bean arms around. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“I thought someone was trying to break into my house.”

“By throwing rocks at your window to let you know they were here?”

Ryan tries not to smile, relief finally catching up to him. “Did using the front door or calling me on the phone just skip to the end of the line, or?”

“I was trying to be romantic.” Even from two stories up, Ryan can make out the shine in his eyes and the loving turn of his smile. “Just come let me in.”

“On it, Romeo,” Ryan flips him off for good measure, and then shuts his window again.

Even though he wants to be supremely annoyed by Shane scaring the shit out if him, and also having his _Star Wars_ marathon interrupted, Ryan only feels the usual happiness taking place when it comes to being with his best friend. He pretty much bounces down the stairs to get to the front door, but just as he’s about to open it, remembers that he looks like the human embodiment of trash. He can see Shane’s tall frame through the bubbled, warped glass in his door, waiting to come inside, and chooses to face it rather than hope for the best.

As soon as the door is opened, Shane’s smile even more dazzling up close, Ryan blurts out: “Sorry I look like the sewer. I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Obviously.” Shane laughs, and bends down to kiss him.

“I smell and taste like popcorn,” Ryan protests half-heartedly, already pressing in closer. They’re probably giving the entire neighborhood a show.

Shane just cups his face with both hands and kisses him more. “My two favorite things. I don’t see the issue here.”

“Gross,” he sighs, and pushes the door shut so he can fold their bodies together without Steven Lim or the cranky lady from across the street seeing them.

They continue to kiss right in front of the door, either forgetting or not caring enough to move away and go into the living room or maybe up to Ryan’s room. Shane is still smiling as he kisses Ryan over and over again, and Ryan is too pleased by all of the affection to care that he looks like someone just fished him out of the Hudson River. He does notice, however, Shane’s extra enthusiasm in their kissing and how his general aura has turned from happy to excited, and he pulls away to look up at him.

“Not that I’m not enjoying it,” he starts, just to make sure Shane knows that he’s having the time of his life. “But what’s the occasion? You seem really, really happy right now.”

“I am really happy.” Shane tells him, fingers lacing together in Ryan’s messy hair. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

Ryan tries not to smile like a goddamn fool. “Did you come over to get laid? Is that it? Because I’ve got some news for you, my guy.”

Shane laughs loudly at that, open and free and wonderful. It takes Ryan a second to realize that he feels so stunned to see Shane like this because he hasn’t seen Shane look like this in _weeks_. Between studying for AP tests and getting college shit ready and trying to practice their asses off for their last band concert, Shane has been looking and feeling a little rough around the edges. Ryan hasn’t seem him not-hunched over in what feels like forever.

“No, I didn’t come here to maul you- even though I feel like I’m probably failing.” Shane grins down at him, and then kisses him again just because. “I got some really good news today.”

Ryan tries to think of what it might be. “Hmm… You and Sara finally finish the script for that short film you’ve been writing for eons?”

“Nope.”

“Keith finally returned that jacket you let him borrow at the beginning of the year?”

“No- but thanks for the reminder to go break into his house later to get it, since I obviously failed at breaking into yours.”

Ryan squeezes his hips. “Fuck you, dude. I don’t know- Mrs. Goodrich graded your test earlier than everyone else’s and you aced it? You and Finn found a pirated copy of _Infinity War_ that doesn’t suck ass? I don’t know.”

“All good guesses, but wrong.” Shane looks him right in the eyes and smiles big and wide and tells him, in almost a whisper, “I got in.”

It takes Ryan a few seconds to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. They stare at each other, Ryan’s face a mess of scrunched eyebrows and a pursed mouth, and Shane’s open and shining and his eyes a little dewy, and then Ryan _gets it_ , Shane _got in_.

“You got in?” he whispers back, because his voice seems to be failing him. “To UCLA?”

“Yeah, I got in.” Shane repeats. “I got into the film program.”

Ryan’s silent for another breath, and then he’s laughing maniacally and throwing his arms around his boyfriend. Shane laughs along with him and they stand in the middle of the Bergaras’ foyer, hugging and staggering around like a pair of drunk idiots. Ryan is so happy that he can’t fucking breathe, can’t think past the explosion of warmth inside of his stomach and his chest and the feeling of Shane pressing his grin into the top of Ryan’s head. He’s so fucking happy that his laughing abruptly turns into a choked sob, and he pulls his face out of Shane’s chest to look at him again.

“We fucking did it,” Ryan tells him, and he can’t really see anymore, but he thinks Shane is crying, too. “We got into the same school.”

“Yeah, we did.” Shane is definitely crying.

Ryan loves him so much that he could scream. Has loved this tall, funny kid since they were five years old and the Madejs moved in two streets behind the Bergaras and had their kids play together to help them get comfortable with living in a new town. Loves him more every single day, and thinks that he’s never going to stop loving him more and more or love anyone else even a sliver as much as he loves Shane Madej.

He knows he looks even grosser now, with tears mixing in with the general mess of him, but all he can think about is keeping Shane with him for the next four years.

“We’re not gonna be separated.” Ryan tells him, and his voice cracks embarrassingly. “No long distance. We’re gonna fucking _live_ together.”

“I’ll be right next to you the whole time,” Shane swears, and his voice breaks, too. Really, really badly, but instead of making Ryan laugh at him, it just makes him sob again. “I’m gonna be right there for the rest of our lives.”

He knows, in retrospect, that tomorrow they’ll both be really embarrassed by how dramatic they’re being, sobbing like someone’s been killed in the middle of Ryan’s fucking entryway with Jake only a floor below them and Ryan’s parents due back from their night out at any time. But he feels grounded for the first time in months, like the world’s been lifted from his shoulders. They both applied to UCLA together, huddled under Shane’s enormous comforter, and talked about what they wanted their apartment to look like instead of thinking about what would happen if one of them got in without the other. When Ryan had gotten his acceptance letter, it was more like a punch to the gut than a victory because Shane hadn’t gotten his yet.

His mom found him in his room, crying into a pillow, and he had confessed for the first and only time that he wouldn’t go to UCLA ( _his fucking dream school)_ without Shane, wouldn’t go to any school without Shane, because leaving without him would be like leaving without his legs or his eyes. Instead of getting upset at him for shaping his future around another person, she’d held him through it and told him that school was important, but so was Shane, and that they weren’t going to be any less proud of him for going to a different school so the two of them could be together. He sat with her for a long, long time, trying not to be sick and to find the words to express how much her blessing meant to him.

For the meantime, instead of getting embarrassed, Ryan pulls Shane down until their foreheads are pressed together, and tells him with a soaking wet face and a snotty nose: “I love you so fucking much.”

Shane laughs, with his own sob filtered into it, and he tells Ryan: “I love you too, Ry, I love you so fucking much too.”

They continue to stand there, pressed together from head to toe, tears still falling in between words of disbelief and relief, toothy smiles making permanent appearances. Ryan pushes his face back into Shane’s chest so that he can be as close to him as possible, and Shane rests his cheek on top of Ryan’s head again, and Ryan is so goddamn happy that he feels like he could melt into the floor.

“I think I’m going to ask you this while we’re both happy and the mood’s still good.”

For a split, heart-stopping second, Ryan thinks Shane is going to fucking propose to him or something wild like that, but then Shane asks, “Can I put a cardboard cutout of Poe Dameron in our living room?”

And Ryan is too hyped up and too in love to do anything other than say: “You’re a jackass.” just so that he can feel Shane laugh and feel Shane kiss his forehead.

_**~.~.~** _

After they calm down, Ryan makes sure that Jake is still preoccupied in the basement, and then he pulls Shane up to his room as stealthily as they can manage.

When they get to Ryan’s room, he backs Shane up against his bedroom door and kisses him, much less tame than the kiss they shared by his front door.

“Holy shit, Bergara, you’re really something else tonight.” Shane says, as if he’s not also licking into Ryan’s mouth and trying to keep them pressed together at all times. “Dream school acceptance is what really does it for you, huh?”

“Maybe,” Ryan teases, shoving his hands underneath Shane’s sweater. “Or maybe it’s just knowing that I’m gonna be able to come home and blow you every single night for the rest of my life.”

" _Ryan_.”

Shane sounds like he doesn’t know whether to moan or burst into tears again, so Ryan just kisses him harder, tongues tangling and his fingers pressing lines into Shane’s sides. They haven’t done this in a while, either, on top of not hanging out as often or feeling any ounce of joy in any aspects of their lives. Ryan has barely had the energy to kiss Shane suggestively, and mostly they just end up making out lazily and canoodling together during what Shane has dubbed the Depressed Boyfriend Snug Sessions™. He doesn’t remember the last time he kissed his boyfriend with the intent to get him hard and/or naked. It feels like he’s peeling the top layer of his skin off and coming out brand new.

“R-remember when you reprimanded me for coming over just to get laid?” Shane asks breathlessly as Ryan undoes his belt buckle, and then his fly. “What happened to that?”

“I just told you what happened to that.” Feeling all kinds of overjoyed, and a little reckless now that he knows he has nothing to lose, Ryan squeezes Shane’s half-hard dick through his jeans. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Obviously. Jesus, Ryan,” Shane gasps, hips canting off of the door a little.

Ryan grins and gets on his knees, a little unsteady from lack of doing so and from crying for over an hour, but Shane doesn’t even notice, is already squirming around like this is his first time.

“I mean, if you’re not enjoying this, we can always stop,” he tells Shane, even as he’s yanking Shane’s jeans and boxers down to his thighs. “I’ve never creeped outside of your house on a Friday night to sneak in a quick fuck.”

“Fuck you, yes you ha- _ve_.” When Ryan takes the head of his dick into his mouth without warning, Shane’s voice breaks in a much different way than it did down in the foyer. His hands automatically reach out to sink into Ryan’s destroyed hair, and he isn’t shy about pushing Ryan closer. “God _damn_ I missed this.”

He could probably draw it out longer, or tease Shane some more to watch him get worked up, but Ryan’s practically drooling for it, probably more than Shane is. So he rests his weight fully onto his knees and presses forwards to take more of Shane’s cock into his mouth, stomach curling at the strangled noise he makes. Even though it’s been weeks since they’ve done anything like this, the weight and taste of him in Ryan’s mouth is familiar, another part of Shane that he knows like a piece of his own heart, body, and soul. He knows what pace Shane likes by muscle memory, knows when to use his teeth and when to not use his teeth, knows that if he wants to hear Shane whimper all he has has to do is close his mouth around the notch beneath the head and suck _just a little_ -

Shane suddenly yanks him off of his dick, and Ryan’s eyes fly open. The sight above him is ethereal, almost too good to be real in this state of mind: Shane’s cheeks are flushed a beautiful pink that travels down to the collar of his sweater, all the way down to his slick, rosy cock, still close enough to Ryan’s slick mouth that if he stuck his tongue out it would graze the underside of the head again, and his eyes are glazed over, shiny just like his puffy, red mouth. He somehow hasn’t noticed it before this moment, but now Ryan can feel how _hard_ he is, looking up at Shane and his blissed-out face and the precome leaking out of his slit.

“Why’d you stop?” Ryan whines, and almost whines again when the sound of his raspy voice makes Shane’s hips jerk. “I was just getting into it.”

“Because I want to fuck you, that’s why,” Shane tells him, voice equally wrecked. “I don’t want to come without you.”

At any other time, that line probably would have made Ryan laugh because of how cheesy it is, but he can still see dried tear tracks on Shane’s cheeks, and can still feel some of that ache left behind in the mess of happiness and exhausted relief. So, this time, instead of laughing, Ryan pulls one of Shane’s hands out of his hair and presses a kiss to his palm.

“Together, then,” Ryan tells him, eyes and voice never wavering, and Shane just stares down at him for a few heartbeats before pulling him to his feet.

When their mouths meet again, it’s much less coordinated than when Ryan first pressed Shane against his door. It’s sloppy and messy and wet and hot and every part of Ryan’s body is pulsating with how much he wants Shake to fuck him, to be inside of him. Some of him wants to think that this crazed mess of kissing and grinding and squeezing is all because they haven’t really been together for weeks and weeks. But most of him knows that it’s more of a frenzy to reassure each other that they’re still together, still going to be together, always going to be together.

Clothes get launched all around Ryan’s room without rhyme or reason: his Luke Skywalker shirt lands on top of his desk, Shane’s sweater lands by the door, his sweatpants come dangerously close to knocking his TV off of his dresser, and Shane’s jeans end up pooled at the base of his bed. When they’re both naked after some awkward wiggling and determination not to stop kissing the entire time, Shane crawls up and over him, until he’s got Ryan caged in with his long, boney arms. The feeling of their bodies touching without any clothes on, just skin that the other person knows better than their own, almost makes Ryan moan like a goddamn girl.

He barely notices it when Shane uses one of his long, boney arms to reach into his bedside table and blindly search for the lube. He’s too busy digging his fingers into Shane’s messy hair to pull his head back enough to suck a mark onto his throat.

“Fucking Christ, Ryan,” Shane groans, hips jerking in another hungry, uncontrolled manner. “I’m not going to be able to hide that at all, dude.”

“Good.” Ryan bites him softly. “Everyone’s gonna know that I’m yours and you’re mine for the rest of our lives. That nothing’s gonna come in between us.”

Shane makes another throaty noise, but somehow convinces Ryan to kiss him again instead of marking up his neck. This kiss is sweeter, but still sloppy, and Ryan tries not to smile into it. When Shane pulls away just enough to look into his eyes, free hand cupped around his cheek and the back of his head, Ryan gives in and grins.

“Hi,” he says, stupidly, and it makes Shane laugh.

“Hi,” Shane runs his thumb over Ryan’s swollen bottom lip, eyes trained on it like a starving man seeing food for the first time in days. “So, I gotta ask- am I about to fuck you while Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padme are trying to escape from being executed?”

Ryan laughs loudly, curling his arms all the way around Shane’s thin waist. “I’m afraid so. Jake’s in the basement and my parents are either going to be home any second or in a few hours. It’s our best hope of not getting sent to church camp. Or Hell.”

Shane laughs back, presses another small, loving kiss to his lips, and then leans back onto his knees. They openly stare at each other, fondness mixed in with arousal and excitement, twin expressions mirroring one another. Ryan used to wonder if he should feel shy or twitchy being looked at so obviously, so transparently, but all he’s ever felt was safe and accepted. It makes something warm settle in his stomach as Shane looks down at him, smiling like an idiot and softly tracing his fingers down from Ryan’s chest to his thighs.

“You know, I need to tell you something, Ry. I want to be honest.”

“Yeah?” Ryan’s heart picks up, already anticipating Shane’s soft, loving words and the rush of emotion that’s going to come with it, and then he strokes his hand up to Ryan’s knee and says:

“The sound of Ewan McGregor shouting at droids and Count Dooku actually gets me going. Like, a lot.”

And while Ryan has his head pressed back into a pillow, mouth open in another loud, shameless laugh, Shane uncaps the lube and coats his fingers with it. Ryan knows he made the joke to get him to be loose and pliant for this part, since it’s been so long, and it maybe probably makes him tear up again, just a little. He hides it well underneath his huge grin.

Just like everything else that they do together as a team, the motions of Shane getting Ryan ready and Ryan helping Shane to slide in are perfectly executed. They work together like two halves of one whole, like a well-oiled machine with two identical gears pushing and pulling against each other. Shane knows just how much Ryan needs to be stretched and where to press to get him to cry out, and Ryan knows how to angle his body just right to fit Shane inside of him and when to clench and when to relax. Even when they have to hide their noises under the sound of _Star Wars_ and remember to stay alert for Ryan’s parents or brother, the sex is incredible, and the way that they fuck is incredible.

And it’s more than just the mindblowing feeling of Shane filling him up, or the slick warmth of their bare skin pressed together, or the smell of sweat and the soft, spicy cologne that’s still clinging to Shane’s wrists and the base of his throat. It’s more than just fucking. It feels like they’re fusing together, becoming the two gears on this amazing machine, like there’s no mistaking that they were made for each other when they’re connected in every single way possible.

After minutes or hours, Shane gasps sharply against Ryan’s cheek, and Ryan knows he’s about to come, just like Ryan’s about to.

“Together, right?” Shane pants out, their foreheads pressed together, and Ryan keens when Shane’s hand slides down from his chest until it’s curled around his aching cock.

“Right, right, _oh-_ ” Ryan moans high in the back of his throat, and hot sparks flare up in his belly, press right up against the base of his spine like they do when he’s going to come. “I’m almost there, c’mon Shane, I wanna come with you so badly-”

Shane slams into Ryan one, two, three more times, hard and perfect, and releases a string of curses against the crown of his head. Ryan can feel it when Shane orgasms, both inside and outside of his body, and he follows after, trying and mostly failing to strangle the cry he releases. Shane strokes him through it, tells him he’s stunning and beautiful and everything he’s ever fucking dreamed of, and Ryan thinks he might be crying again but can’t feel anything else but the press of Shane against his side and his fingers in Ryan’s hair

They lay together for a few minutes, catching their breath, and Ryan finds out that yes, he is crying again, but only a little, and Shane is right there to wipe the tears away. His own eyes are red and glossy, like he wants to cry too, but is too happy and too content to do so. Ryan stares up at him through the haze and tries to glue his brain back together so he can tell Shane how much he means to him.

Eventually, Shane works up enough energy to pull out of Ryan and go to the bathroom across the hall. He’s still high enough to tempt fate and go naked, and Ryan laughs softly watching him dart into the bathroom long enough to get a washcloth wet and dart back to Ryan’s room. They help clean each other up, and when they’re done, Ryan hides the washcloth in his trash can.

“Remind me to take care of that tomorrow,” he says through a yawn, and Shane makes a face.

“You really think we’re gonna remember?”

“We’re going to remember or we’re going to die, so yeah, I’d bet on it.”

Shane snorts and crawls back onto the bed, doing his best not to jostle Ryan around too much. They work together to get underneath the covers and end up curled around each other the same way they’ve been curled up together since Shane arrived: head to toe.

“Shouldn’t we put clothes on?” Shane asks him as neither one of them make any move to do so.

Ryan half-heartedly shrugs. “Should’ve thought of that before we got under here, buddy. There’s no going back now.”

“What if your parents come home?”

Ryan kisses his chin. “We’ll die. But at least we’ll be together.”

Shane moves to kiss him properly, this time soft and sweet and slow, lazy in a good, fucked-out way. Ryan’s heart is so goddamn full.

“I need to go home soon.”

Ryan tightens his arms around Shane’s sides. “Yeah, you should probably get on that.”

“I should.”

They end up falling asleep, naked and pressed together underneath Ryan’s warm comforter. It happens somewhere in between Ryan asking Shane to start the movie over again since he interrupted it and Shane telling Ryan he loves him with a breathtaking amount of emotion in his deep voice. Ryan barely has enough time to mumble that he loves Shane too before his eyes are closing and he passes out with his nose pressed against Shane’s chest.

**_~.~.~_ **

Ryan wakes up feeling better than he has in literal years.

Instead of waking up abruptly, either out of a dead sleep or a hellish nightmare, he swims slowly and peacefully towards consciousness, feeling bits and pieces of himself return as his body adjusts to the morning light and to the weight against his back. It feels like ages have passed between when he first slips out of a pleasant, dreamless sleep and when he finally opens his eyes.

The first thing that he notices is that he’s really, really warm. In any other circumstance, it might have been too hot for him, like laying in an oven, but for whatever reason, it feels perfect on this morning. And the second thing he notices is that he’s completely tucked into the side of his boyfriend’s body.

Memories of the previous night begin to return to Ryan, and he feels himself grinning like an absolute idiot against Shane’s (slightly bruised and bitten) neck as they pop up. The warmth grows tenfold, thinking about their ridiculous crying episode in the foyer and their intense love making and the sound of the words “I love you,” leaving Shane’s smiling mouth. Ryan, somehow, presses closer to Shane and tightens his arms around his ribs.

He lays awake, listening to Shane breathe. He doesn’t know or care how much time passes while he sits in the quiet of this beautiful morning, just listening to Shane’s heartbeat and feeling his chest rising and falling, just soaks it in like the walls of his bedroom are soaking in the golden sunlight. He feels boneless with relief and love and contentment. There’s not a single piece of fear or terror left inside of him.

Shane wakes up an immeasurable amount of time later. His process is much the same as Ryan’s; first, he stirs a little here and there, and then starts shifting around when he reaches the in between stage of asleep and awake, and then he sucks in a deep, easy breath, tightens his arms around Ryan’s hips and shoulders, and opens his eyes up. At the feeling of Shane’s eyelashes fluttering against his forehead, Ryan responds by kissing Shane lightly on the side of his neck.

“Good morning,” Shane whispers, like he’s too afraid to speak up and break the spell; now that they’re not frantic to get each other naked and into a compromising position, it’s infinitely easier to soak in the way their bodies seem to melt into each other.  

“Morning,” Ryan whispers back.

Shane turns fully onto his side, so that they’re back to being pressed together all the way down the line of their bodies, and kisses the top of Ryan’s head. He ends up laughing a little under his breath.

“We’re still naked,” he tells Ryan, like Ryan hasn’t been blissfully aware of this fact the entire time he’s been awake. “And still alive.”

“Thanks for that.” Ryan teases.

He sits in the secure ring of Shane’s arms for a few seconds, trying to memorize this feeling of pure, untouchable happiness and love and the feeling of their warm, flushed skin pressed together at every nook and cranny. Then, he half-turns his body towards his bedside table and fishes around for his phone. There’s a missed call from his mom, and three texts from Jake.

At 8:47: _Jesus Christ, Ryan, I can hear you and Shane fucking screaming from the basement. The whole world knows you two are never going to get split up. Stop yelling._

Then, at 10:12: _I know Shane is up in your room with you and that you two are probably doing the nasty since you’re both nasty lol but I know you want some alone time so I’m trying to convince mom and dad to stay out later. You’re welcome._

And finally, at 10:56: _They’re staying at Aunt Kim’s house tonight because apparently me encouraging them to have a good time meant get really drunk and really sad about you graduating, so they won’t be home tonight. Have fun. Or don’t, bc that’s gross. You’re gross. And so is Shane._

Ryan giggles softly, and squishes his cheek against Shane’s shoulder. “Look at what Jake sent me last night.”

Shane reads them with his nose still buried in Ryan’s disastrous hair, and when he laughs, Ryan can feel it with his entire body. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt in his entire fucking life, including last night’s events.

“He’s my favorite Bergara.”

Ryan bonks him lightly on the jaw with his phone. “Fuck you, man. I don’t believe it was him up here last night that you were making sweet, passionate love with.”

Shane groans and makes a big show of untucking and rolling away from him. “You’re disgusting, Ryan, I would never-”

“Then don’t fuck around with him being your favorite Bergara.” He pushes at Shane’s turned back. “You brought it upon yourself.”

Shane peeks over his shoulder at Ryan, a faux grumpy look plastered across his sleepy, happy face, and it just makes Ryan laugh again. Shane stares at him for a few seconds, his grumpy look melting into something fond and adoring, and just as quick as he was to turn away, he’s flopping back over to face Ryan. He looks beautiful, eyes a glittery hazel, skin the same gold as the walls, and his cheeks pink from sleep. The hickies Ryan left on him are bold against his fair, glowing skin, and he can’t help but reach out and push his thumb against the big one right next to Shane’s Adam’s apple.

He’s suddenly surrounded by Shane, big hands cupping around his face and bare chest pressing him back into the mattress. Ryan gets a millisecond to look up into Shane’s open, radiant face before his best friend leans down and kisses him. Ryan makes a pleased noise and kisses back, still smiling, a hand sliding up into Shane’s equally messed up hair.

“You are obviously my favorite member of the Bergara Bunch,” Shane tells him, a big, beautiful grin spreading across his face. “Jake is my #1.5, followed closely by Micki and Dori.”

“My mom’s gonna be pissed, dude.”

“Yeah.” Shane agrees, because Shane is his mom’s favorite. “You’ll protect me though, right?”

He thinks about being a snarky asshole, which is what he always is, or about playing dumb, but his heart is so full and his throat is kind of closing up again because of how much he loves Shane, so instead of being funny or dorky, he looks Shane in the eye and runs his hand through his hair and tells him, in a completely serious voice:

“Of course I will.” It comes out very softly, and very sincerely, and Shane’s obnoxious grin files down until it’s the small, happy smile he smiles whenever they’re disgustingly cute with each other. “No matter what.”

Shane’s eyes crinkle up. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They spend another indeterminable amount of time laying in bed together, Shane’s hands trailing over Ryan’s skin and Ryan’s hands curled loosely around Shane’ neck. At first, they share a few more soft kisses, and then they start talking about whatever comes to mind through the fog of contentment and deeply rooted affection. Shane wants to revisit why Ryan’s mom loves him the most, even though he’s known it since Ryan and Shane first become best friends, and this descends into memorable moments from their childhood together.

“Remember when we got married in the treehouse?” Ryan asks him. “Jake was my best man and Finn was yours and Sara was the minister. Steven came with Andrew and the four on Pine Street.”

“Keith was really mad I didn’t make him my best man,” Shane adds in, squeezing Ryan’s side. “I remember because he tried to push you out of the treehouse and you and Ned both almost broke an arm when he pulled you back in.”

“You didn’t talk to him for almost two weeks.”

Shane grows a little serious, so faint that if Ryan didn’t know him inside out he wouldn’t have noticed it. “Of course not. He could have broken more than your arm.”

It goes unsaid between them: _I’ll protect you no matter what, too._

“Wait until we get married for real and he’s still not your best man.” Ryan says, laughing, and Shane squeezes his side again.

“He better not push you off the roof or something or I’ll have to fight him to the death.”

“He’ll be the best man at Zach and Eugene’s wedding someday, so I think he’ll live not being the best man at ours. Also, I’d prefer that, uh, _no one_ die when we get married.”

“That would probably be for the best.”

This leads into them talking about their wedding and what wild things they’d put in it to psych their guests out ( _“Can we pull a_ How I Met Your Mother _and get a ring bear?” “I’ll leave you at the altar if you rent a fucking bear to carry our rings down the aisle.”_ ), and then it leads into where they’d go on their honeymoon ( _“Think of all the places we could bang if we went to, like, Fiji, where it’s all beach.” “Or we could be normal people and go to Italy and gain some cultural experience, Ryan, you fucking animal.”_ ), and then to where they should live when they’re independent, full-fledged adults.

“I don’t care where we live,” Shane says, after they’ve discussed Chicago, Los Angeles, and Toronto. “As long as I can bring my cardboard cutout of Poe Dameron with me.”

“What the fuck is with you and that cardboard cutout?” Ryan asks him, pretending to be jealous. “You’re literally obsessed with him, dude.”

“As if you’re not obsessed with Cassian.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want a cardboard cutout of him in our fucking living room.” A pause. “Actually, I think I do now. Diego Luna next to Oscar Isaac at all hours of the day? Sign me up.”

Shane laughs. “Now I’m wondering if I should be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous-”

“You totally are!” Shane thumbs at Ryan’s bottom lip. “I know this pout anywhere. You’re super jealous that I love Poe as much as I do.”

“No I’m not.” He absolutely is. “I love Poe, too. I just don’t understand why you’re literally fucking obsessed with him.”

There’s a moment of hesitation laced in between them laughing, where Shane looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t know if he should. Then he trails his wandering fingers back up to Ryan’s chest and splays them out.

“Baby, you really got nothing to be jealous of. Trust me.”

“And why’s that?”

Some more hesitation, lessened by the sticky-honey feel still in the room, and then:

“I thought it was obvious why I’m obsessed with Poe- he reminds me of you.”

Ryan blinks at him. “What?”

Shane rolls his eyes, but to Ryan’s complete and utter delight, he can see a blush creeping up Shane’s neck. “The reason why I love Poe so much is because he reminds me of you. Dark hair, dark eyes, a big, pretty smile.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not.” Shane’s embarrassed smile turns sweet. “He’s a gorgeous man- not as gorgeous as you, but the thought’s there- and is also really brave, and loyal, and ready to kick major ass no matter what happens. And he’s gay as fuck.”

“Shane,” Ryan laughs, because he thinks he might cry. “Oh my God.”

“So, yeah.” The embarrassment is back. “That’s why I love Poe so much. Because I love you so much.”

Ryan stares at him in amazement, and then pushes himself forwards so he can kiss Shane. Shane moves his hands from Ryan’s chest to the back of his head to pull him closer and hold him in place, and Ryan’s hands disappear beneath the comforter to settle on Shane’s hips. He knows that it could go from innocent to hot in a matter of seconds, but he’s not really in the mood for it to go there, just wants to kiss Shane over and over again and hold onto him and make sure he still knows how insanely in love with him Ryan is.

Luckily, they’re still mostly under the covers, because a few lazy kisses into what will probably become many lazy kisses, Ryan’s door rockets open. They break apart with a loud smacking sound and look over with big, horrified eyes.

It turns out to just be Jake, looking floofy in a big pair of sweatpants, a _Stranger Things_ t-shirt, glasses, and the trademark Bergara Disaster Hair. He’s got his hands on his hips and looks down at Ryan and Shane like they’re personally responsible for any and all distress in his life.

“Get up, fuckers,” he tells them. “We’re making french toast for breakfast and you’re gonna help me or I’m gonna tell Mom that you directly disobeyed her trust.”

Ryan groans dramatically, but then drops his head down onto Shane’s chest and snarks out an “Aye aye, captain.”

Jake smirks. “That was for you, Shane Madej. You better stop attacking my brother and come cook up some sausages or I’ll tell Mom that you went behind her back and came over without waiting to see her, too.”

Shane half-sits up, careful to not dislodge Ryan from his chest. “You wouldn’t dare! Jacob!”

Jake’s already heading down the stairs to the first floor. “Hurry up and maybe I won’t tell her!”

The two of them look at each other for a few long moments, and then break out into loud peels of laughter, noses brushing together. Now that Ryan can feel his heart again, it feels even warmer and fuller than before.

“Let’s go before he literally calls my mom and she comes racing back to kick our asses.”

They climb out of bed, and after pulling on some clothes (Ryan gets his pajamas from the previous night on and Shane pulls out sweatpants and an old shirt he keeps in a drawer in Ryan’s room), they head for the stairs. Shane bends down to kiss him one more time before they’re in front of Jake and it’s off limits, and Ryan can’t help the rush of emotion he gets from it. From thinking about them being able to do this every single morning for the foreseeable future, waking up with their sleep-flushed skin pressed together and falling asleep with it.

“Stop being sickos and come crack some fucking eggs! Chop chop, bitches!”

Ryan rolls his eyes, and then takes Shane’s hand. When Shane squeezes it with his own, letting Ryan guide him down the stairs, he smiles to himself. A morning with his two favorite people sounds like a good way to follow up the best night he’s ever had.

“Chill out, Jake! The eggs aren’t gonna get up and walk out on us, Jesus Christ.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope that yall enjoyed that general mess of snotty teenage boys in love and jake bergara being a shithead fdjisfksa stay tuned for the next prompts (or don't tbh if this was terrible) and please let me know how the sex went ahahahhhahaha also i did not mean to write 7.2k worth of this mess but here we are
> 
> and i know what you're thinking "jo, another fic where shane thirsts over poe dameron/you mention star wars?" 
> 
> listen,,,, i know 
> 
> pls come say hi on tumblr @ bodhirookes :-)


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